I Do
by Doctor WTF
Summary: A pregnant Molly finds herself emotionally compromised on the morning of her wedding. Sherlock scrambles to be reassuring.


**AN: This was prompt fill for Imanurse over on tumblr. Thank you dearie! It was lovely! I just wish I had gotten to it sooner!**

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"I look like a boat," Molly groused, gazing at herself in the mirror with a scowl on her face. "A hugely massive white boat."

Continuing to put on his own clothing, Sherlock bit his lip but said nothing. He'd learned the hard way that Molly commenting on her own weight was typically a trap. If he agreed with her she'd likely start to yell and then to weep. If he disagreed she'd accuse him of lying and then start to weep.

_Pregnancy hormones._

Was there anything in the world he was less suited to then attempting to comfort an emotionally compromised, entirely illogical woman? But then again it had been his sperm that had put Molly into this position. Granted, it had been the condom's fault, but he had been the one so eager for intercourse he'd used an expired condom. He supposed that did make him responsible for soothing her.

Finishing with his shoes he glanced up to see Molly still looking at herself in the mirror. Her face had gone red and her eyes were filling with tears. Panic rushing through him, he leapt off the bed and took her face in his hands, turning it away from the mirror to look at him.

"You look lovely," he assured her, keeping eye contact to prove he was being serious. Eye contact was apparently necessary to be properly reassuring. He wasn't entirely sure why. Molly found physical contact to be reassuring as well so he gingerly put his arms around her and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Absolutely beautiful." He searched for words of reassurance stored in his mind palace cataloged under 'Pregnant' and 'Molly.' "You're glowing."

"What does that even mean?" Molly nearly sobbed, burying her face against his lapel as she wrapped her arms around him. For a moment he considered pulling away and reminding her not to press her face against him while she was wearing makeup but decided against it at the last moment. He didn't need John Watson about to know that would be more than a little 'not good.'

"I don't know precisely what it means," he said. "It's just something I keep hearing people say about pregnant women. I believe it means something along the lines of the pregnant woman in question looking lovely so it clearly applies. Since you do. Look lovely that is."

"I look like Moby Dick!"

He blinked twice, trying to reference that comment and scowled when he came up with nothing. That meant either a literature or telly reference and knowing Molly it could be either. "I don't understand that comment," he sighed, hating to admit it.

"Moby Dick! You know, a white whale!"

"Albino? I didn't know whales could suffer from albinism. I would imagine they would be unlikely to survive long in the wild when-" He gasped loudly as Molly gave him a vicious pinch.

"Not helping!" she shouted. Ripping herself away and stomping - quite heavily, she really had gained quite a bit of weight - off Molly yanked the wedding veil from her head and tossed it onto the bed. "I've changed my mind! The wedding's off!"

The panic raced through him, raising his heart rate and causing his palms to sweat. With great effort he pushed those feelings down and carefully regarded Molly. While her breaking off of their impending nuptials could have been a hormone induced decision he didn't want to risk changing a spur of the moment thought into a final outcome. He'd worked so hard convincing Molly to marry him in the first place he wasn't about to give up on her now.

"Molly-"

"No, Sherlock," she said, wrapping her arms around herself. Her shoulders shook from suppressing sobs as she stared at the floor. "I don't want to hear it."

"We can't cancel the wedding now," he said, struggling to keep his tone even as he slowly approached her. "The ceremony starts in two hours. My parents have driven down just to see us wed. Mycroft's most likely already has designs on the cake. Think of how disappointed they'll be if we cancel the ceremony now."

"I don't care! I don't want anyone seeing me like this!"

"Why? You look lovely."

"No I don't, I look fat!" Molly gasped, her grip on herself tightening. "You're supposed to look beautiful when you get married and I look like a fat cow."

"You're pregnant."

"Fine. I look like a pregnant fat cow!" Molly raged. With another gasp she sat down on the edge of his bed, burying her face in her hands. "Janine is going to be there. I can't look like a fat cow in front of her!"

Frowning at that, he gingerly sat next to her on the bed. "Why would it matter if Janine is there or not?" he asked, brow furrowed. "You of all people know our relationship was based on her ability to get me into her office."

"Yes, but-" Molly sniffled, rubbing her face. "The press doesn't know that. They think you're Shag-a-lot Holmes and that Janine was lucky conquest number… I don't know… Number one who actually came out to the tabloids! And she's going be be there all skinny and beautiful and smiling and I'm going to waddle in like the big, fat, white whale I am and everyone there is going to say 'Poor Sherlock' and pity you for having to marry the cow instead of the model!"

He blinked rapidly as Molly finished speaking, unable to process her words. "Why would anyone pity me for marrying you?" he asked, deciding to start with the most baffling statement. "Anyone who knows me in any way knows how incredibly lucky I am for convincing you to marry me."

"The press doesn't know that!" Molly sighed. The tears were starting to subside to his great relief. "They're probably all going to think that I managed to trick you somehow into getting me pregnant and am trapping you into marriage."

"If you managed to trick me, I think that would make me that much more eager to marry you," he smiled. Molly failed to get the joke though, scowling at him, and he sighed. "What would you like me to do? Shall I make a formal announcement on the reasons for our marriage?"

"No," she muttered. "I mean, I don't even know why we are getting married."

"We're having a child," he pointed out to her, brow furrowing again. "That's what people do when they're having a child, isn't it?"

Face falling, Molly looked away. "So you really are only marrying me because I'm pregnant."

It wasn't a question, it was a comment and from the way she was shifting in her seat Sherlock knew he had moments before she tried to make a break for it. "I'm not marrying you only because you're pregnant," he said, voice firm. "While that is one of the reasons I proposed marriage it was not the only one."

"Why did you ask me to marry you then?" she asked, voice small.

His mind raced. In all likelihood he had this one chance to convince Molly that his intentions were pure. If he fouled this up he doubted she'd stay. She'd walk out his bedroom door and then out of Baker Street and all would be in naught. She'd cancel moving in with him in favor of staying in her own flat and he'd be back to seeing her more rarely. Maybe she'd even cut him out of her baby's life and he would become one of those fathers who only saw their child on every other weekend and major holidays. His heart throbbed and he knew he couldn't allow that to happen.

"I'm marrying you because I want the companionship," he said, reaching over to take her hand. He squeezed it tightly, hoping that it would act like an anchor and keep her there. "The times when I am with you I feel different. More content. I sleep better the nights I manage to convince you to stay. I like being able to speak with you whenever I want and being able to sit on my sofa and know you're near. I'm looking forward to meeting the child the two of us have created and discovering who they are as a person. I want you at my side Molly Hooper, always, and I hoped that marriage would provide me with my desired outcome."

Molly sniffled, the tears returning to fill him with dread. "That's…. That's sweet Sherlock," she said, voice quiet as she looked up at him. "But… Do you love me?"

He wished she hadn't asked that question. Swallowing hard he decided on the truth. "I don't know," he muttered. "I don't know what being in love is supposed to feel like. I can assure you that I feel for you deeply, Molly. When you're not with me I find myself wondering what you're doing and I go to great lengths to make you happy because you being happy makes me happy. The idea that something could happen to you or our child feels me with fear and keeps me up at night. Yet, despite these feelings I don't know if it's love or some sort of deep and all encompassing sensation of amiability. I don't feel for you the way I do for my own parents. I don't even feel for you the way I feel for John, though I never was as concerned for John's happiness or safety than I am for you."

Molly was looking at him with those dark eyes of hers. He swallowed again, his grip on her hand only tightening. "It might not be what you deserve, but is it enough?"

A slow sweet smile crossed her face. She opened her arms for him and he entered them eagerly, for once not caring about being touched in such a way. It was okay with Molly. He trusted her. "Of course it's enough," she whispered, hands wrapping around him and toying with the ends of his hair. "You're always enough for me, Sherlock."

Nodding and feeling relieved he pressed a kiss to her cheek. "Does this mean we can still get married? While I know it isn't completely necessary in our era, I'm still looking forward to being legally able to get you to move in with me and being able to get into your knickers whenever I want."

Laughing lightly, Molly swatted his arm as she pulled away. "Of course we can still get married. I'm sorry I was being such a fright, Sherlock. It's just all these hormones rushing through my system. It really is horrid. Sometimes I can just feel myself going out of my mind."

His eyes widened slightly as he gripped her hand again. "You still want to have the baby though, don't you?" he asked, voice going tight. "It's not so bad that you want to-"

"No," she interrupted, voice firm. "I love this baby and I love you, Sherlock Holmes. Now what do you think about me putting my veil back on and fixing my makeup? Do you still want to get married?"

He grinned at her, raising her hand up to his lips to kiss it softly. "I do."


End file.
